CHAPTER 27: SUMMON
The next morning at 5 a.m., Hania stood before her father’s laboratory door, a cup of tea held in her small hands.
A small group of Lusha’s spider grandchildren had helped carry the tray to the door, looking quite proud of themselves. Hania had thanked them with a solemn nod and a promise of extra milk drops later. Now, they watched from the ceiling like tiny, eight-legged cheerleaders.
Hania took a deep breath, adjusted her grip on the warm cup, and pushed the door open without knocking. Knocking meant there was a chance of refusal, and she wasn't about to give him that chance.
The laboratory was dimly lit. Dravin stood at the central workbench, silver hair tied back and red eyes focused on a complex array of glowing sigils hovering in the air. He didn’t look up when she entered.
Hania walked straight in, barefoot and still in her nightclothes. “Daddy,” she said in her sweetest, most innocent voice, “I brought you tea. Kofery said you forgot to drink anything yesterday. Again.”
Dravin finally glanced at her, one eyebrow lifting a fraction of a millimeter.
Hania beamed up at him, all big purple eyes and harmless charm. “It’s the kind you like, with the honey Lusha hides from Kofery.” She held the cup out with both hands, looking as small and obedient as possible.
Dravin took the cup without a word and took a sip. Then, he set it down on the workbench and returned to his sigils.
Hania didn’t leave. She stayed right there, standing beside him and watching his every movement. For the next twelve hours, she followed him like a very well-behaved shadow. When he moved to another table, she moved too. When he picked up a book, she stood on tiptoe to see the pages, even though she couldn’t yet read most of the runes.
When he muttered a spell under his breath to stabilize a floating crystal, she clapped her hands. “Wow, Daddy. You’re so smart.”
Dravin ignored her for the first five hours. Then, he finally sighed. “Hania. You are being suspiciously obedient.”
Hania gave him her best angelic smile. “I’m just learning, Daddy. You said I should observe.”
He stared at her. She stared back, blinking slowly. He turned back to his work, and Hania kept following.
At one point, she climbed onto a stool beside him and rested her chin on the table, watching him draw a new formation. “Daddy,” she said sweetly, “can we go outside the Tower today? Just for a little bit? I want to see the mountains up close. Please?”
Dravin didn’t even look up. “No.”
Hania pouted. “But I’ve been so good. I brought you tea. I didn’t touch anything dangerous. I even let the spiders carry the tray without biting them.”
Dravin finally looked at her. “No.”
Hania’s pout deepened. She leaned closer, her voice turning extra cute. “Pretty please? I’ll hold your hand the whole time. I promise I won’t run off. I’ll be the best daughter ever.”
Dravin stared at her for a long second. “The outside world is dangerous,” he said calmly. “You will stay inside the Tower.”
Hania’s cute act cracked for a split second before she quickly fixed it, tilting her head and giving him the biggest, sparkliest eyes she could manage. “But Daddy, I came to this world... dying without seeing anything wouldn't be fair. I don’t want to waste it. I want to see everything. Just one afternoon. I’ll be super careful.”
Dravin didn’t answer.
Hania’s shoulders slumped. She flopped forward onto the table, burying her face in her arms. “You’re mean,” she mumbled into her sleeve.
Dravin didn’t reply; he just reached over and patted her head once.
Hania peeked up at him with one eye. He’s not going to budge. Fine.
She sat up, gave him her sweetest smile again, and said, “Okay, Daddy. I understand.”
She spent the rest of the day following him even more closely, asking innocent questions every five minutes and offering to “help” with everything. By evening, Dravin looked like he was seriously considering sealing the entire Tower again, this time with her inside it.
Hania, meanwhile, was already planning tomorrow’s campaign. She sat at her low desk in the corner of her room, surrounded by crumpled sheets of paper covered in half-finished magic circles. Some were too wobbly; others had anchors in the wrong places. One had a suspicious fish tail in the middle because her hand had slipped while she was daydreaming. She glared at the latest failure, charcoal smudged across her cheek and fingers.
“Stupid, stubborn father,” she muttered, kicking her feet against the chair legs. “I ask nicely. I ask cutely. I even brought him tea. And all I get is ‘No.’ Just ‘No.’ Like I’m asking to jump off the Tower instead of seeing the outside world for five minutes.”
She grabbed a fresh sheet and started drawing again, muttering the whole time. “I didn’t die and get isekai’d just to stay inside one tower forever. I prayed for this. I deserve to see the sea. I deserve to see mermaids. Or at least real mountains that aren’t blocked by stupid wards.”
Her hand moved faster, sketching the outline of a summoning circle she half-remembered from one of the manhwa she used to read in her old life. She wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to summon anymore; she was just angry-drawing.
“I want to see everything,” she grumbled. “The Southern Dukedom. The Empire. The places where mana stones come from. Maybe even the monster territories. I want to swim in the sea with hot mermen. In the hot summer, with the sun shining and the water sparkling and—”
She paused, eyes glazing over as the daydream took hold. She pictured herself lounging on a tropical beach, surrounded by beautiful mermen, only for a giant frost-spike to drop from the sky. Her father would walk across the water, unbothered, and proceed to grill the mermen on an altar of ice.
"Here, Hania," she imagined Dravin saying in that terrifyingly flat voice. "You said you wanted to consume the culture of the South. Eat the fish-man."
She shuddered. “Ugh, he wouldn't even realize the ‘eating’ part was a metaphor. He'd just serve them up with a side of lemon and a ‘Hmm.’”
She looked down at her drawing. It was a mess. Instead of a proper summoning rune, she had accidentally doodled a large, floppy fish tail right in the center of the geometric equations.
“Even the floor is mocking me!” she snapped, jumping to her feet. “LULU!”
From the shadows of the rafters, a spider the size of a dinner plate descended. Lulu, the eldest and most capable of Lusha’s brood, skittered down with a series of clicks.
“Lulu, I’m going to have a stroke if I stay on the ground,” Hania commanded. “Make me a swing. I need to clear my head.”
Lulu didn't hesitate. Thousands of shimmering, reinforced silk threads shot out, weaving together within seconds into a sturdy, elegant swing hung from the vaulted ceiling.
Hania hopped onto it, kicking her legs hard. Swish. Swish.
As she swung, she looked down at the broken circle on the floor. It was actually a very clean drawing, aside from the fish tail. In most manhwas, this was the moment the protagonist summoned a legendary beast or a demon king. But here? She was stuck with her mana sealed at a measly 10%.
“Might as well use it for something,” she grumbled.
While at the highest point of her swing, she pointed a finger downward and channeled a thin stream of mana into the ink. The circle didn't summon a hot merman. It just flared and stayed that way, glowing like a frustrated neon sign.
“Typical. Can’t even summon a sardine with ten percent power,” she sighed.
She gripped the silk ropes tighter to swing higher, but her hand slipped. A sharp piece of the silk nicked the side of her finger. “Ow! Son of a—”
She hissed, pulling her hand back, but it was too late. A drop of blood fell through the air. It landed right in the center of the glowing red circle, right on the tip of the fish tail.
The circle flared to life. The floorboards of the Tower groaned as the circle began to spin, the blood sinking into the wood as if it were thirsty.
Hania froze on the swing, her eyes widening. “Wait. No. That wasn't in the instructions.”